Morning journal and courier., 1887-06-06
NIT. EBeecher's Fronting.

NIT. Beecher's Trouting.
 From One of His ''star Papers'l
 There is bit of a pond, some twenty feet
 in diameter, from which stream flows; and
 in that there are five or six half-pound trout
 who seem to have retired from active life
 and given themselves to meditation in this
 liquid convent. They were very tempting,
 but quite untemptable. Standing afar of,
 we selected an irresistible fly, and with long
 line we sent it pat into the very place. It
 hesitated moment. The morsel was deli
 cious. The nimblest of them should have
 flashed through the water, broke the surface.
 and with 8 graceful but decisive curve plunged downward, carrying the insect with him. Then should in our turn very chserfully lend him hand, relieve him of his prey, and admiring his beauty, but pity iug his untimely fate, bury him in the bas- ket But he wished translation. We cast our fly again and again; we drew it hith- CT and thither; we made it skip and wriggle; we let it fall splash like blundering bug or futtering moth; and our placid spectators calmly beheld our feats, as if all this skill was a mere exercise for their amusement and their whole duty consisted in looking on and preserving order. Next we tried ground bait and sent our Yermieular hook down to their very sides. With judicious gravity buoJ pafIeu dlu SLOWLY Sa11eu COWaTO the root of an old tree on the side of the pool. Again changing place we will make an bassador of grasshopper. Laying down our rod we prepare to catch the grasshopper. l That is in itself no slight feat. At the first I step you take at least forty bolt out and tum- l ble headlong into the grass; some cling to the stems, some are creeping under the 1 leaves. and not one seems to be within reach. You step again; another flight takes place and you eye them with fierce penetration, as l if thereby you could catch some one of them with your eye. You cannot though. You l brush the grass with your foot again. An other hundred snap out and tumble about in every direction. \ There are thousands of them here and there, climbing and wrig- gling that blade, leaping off from that stalk, twisting and kicking on that vertical spiders web, jumping and bouncing about | under your very nose, hitting you in your l face, creeping on your shoes, or turning sum- ! mersets and tracing every figure of parabola 1 or ellpse in the air, and yet not one do you get. And there is such 8 heartiness and l merriment in their .sallies They are pert | and gay, and do not take your intrusion in 1 the least dudgeon. If any tender-hearted person ever wondered how a humane man could bring himself to such q cruelty as the impaling of an insect, let him hunt for @ l grasshopper in hot day among tall grass; 1 and when at length he secures one, the affix- | ing him upon the hook will be done with
 
 l ty, and as a mere matter of penal justice. l Now then the trout are wonder. We swing our line to the air and give it gen tie cast toward the desired spot and puff of south wind dexterously lodges it in the I branch of the tree. You plainly see it strike and whirl over and over, 50 that no gentle | pull will loosen it. You draw it north and 1 south. east and west; you give it a jerk up and pull down; you try series of nimble
 twitches; in vain you coax it in this way and solicit it in that. Then you stop and look 8 | moment, first at the trout and then at your
 line. Was there ever anything vexatiousa l Would it be wrong to get angrys In fact 1 you feel very much like it. The very things you wanted to catch, the grasshopper and l the trout, you could not; but tree that you l did not in the least want you have caught l fast at the first throw. You fear that the | trout will be scared You cautiously draw l nigh and peep down. Yes, there they are, | looking at you and laughing as sure as ever 1 trout laughed! They understand the whole l thing. With very decisive jerk you snap your line, regain the remnant of it and sit down to repair it, to put another hook; you rise up to catch another grasshopper and
 move on down the stream to catch trout! | Meantime the sun is wheeling behind the l mountains, for you are just at the foot ot
 the eastern ridge of Mount Washington (not 1 of the White Mountains, but of the Taconic l range in Connecticut.) Already its broad I l This side of the mountain is solemn and sad. | It's ridge stands sharp against fire bright | horizon. Here and there a tree has escaped ] the axe of the charcoalers and shaggily | marks the sky. Through the heavens are l slowly sailing continents of magnificent
 fleece mountains-Alps and Andes of vapor | They too have their broad shadows. Upon wonder hill, far to the east of us, you see 6 l cloud shadow making gray the top, while the | base is radiant with the sun. Another cloud shadow is moving with stately gran l deur along the valley of the Housatonic; ! and if you rise to little eminence you may see the brilliant landscape growing dull in 1 the sudden obscuration on it's forward line, | and growing as suddenly bright upon its | rear trace. How majestically that shadow l travels up those steep and precipitous noun l tain sidesl How it swoops down the gorge and valley and moves along the plain!
 1 But now the mountain-shadowo on the west | is creeping down into the meadow. It has l crossed the road where your horse stands hitched to the paling of a deserted little
 house. You forget your errand You se- l leet dry, tufty knoll, and lying down, you l gaze up into the sky. Oh those depths l Something within you reaches out and l yearns; you have vague sense of inhnity- 1 of vastness-of the littleness of human life l and the sweetness and grandeur of divine ether. You stretch away through it and find
 that celestial city beyond, and therein dwell
 oh how many that are yours! Tears come unbidden. You begin to long for release | You pray. Was there ever better closet!
 Under the shadow of the mountain, the l heavens full of cloudy cohorts, like armies of horsemen and chariots, your soul is loos- l ened from the narrow judgments of human l life, and touched with full sense of lmmor- ! tality and the liberty of a spiritual state: An hour goes past. How full has 1t been ot feelings Struggling to be thoughts, and of
 thoughts deliquescing into feeling. Twilight
 is coming. You have miles to ride home. Not trout in your basket! Never mind, YOU have fshed in the heavens ana taken great store of prey. Let them laugh at your smnty basket. Take their raillery good-na-